


Something to Make Me Hunger

by TheShinySword



Series: Holiday (MocaChisa Rarepair Week Summer 2020) [1]
Category: BanG Dream! (Anime), BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)
Genre: Bandori Rarepair Week 2020, F/F, Flirtatious Bread Eating, Romance, Saaya Yamabuki: Ace Detective!, indirect kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24491467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShinySword/pseuds/TheShinySword
Summary: In the spring time with the cherry blossoms falling, Moca Aoba changes her regular Monday order with the Yamabuki Bakery and Saaya wants to know why.
Relationships: Aoba Moca/Shirasagi Chisato
Series: Holiday (MocaChisa Rarepair Week Summer 2020) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769263
Comments: 22
Kudos: 83





	Something to Make Me Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Rarepair week! Yes, I will be doing seven days of MocaChisa! They're going to be stories you can read standalone but will make up a loose narrative over all in continuity with each other.

The Yamabuki Bakery treasured every one of its regulars. There were the old ladies who came in every morning for their daily loaves of puffy white bread. The businessmen grabbing a yakisoba roll at lunch. The little kids who rushed in after school for a chocolate coronet paid for in loose ten yen coins. And, of course, Jun and Sana's college fund: Moca Aoba.

Moca and Saaya were friends outside the shop but inside they had a much more sacred bond: baker and customer. Moca claimed to love all bread equally but Saaya knew her to be a more particular consumer. She had a different order for every day of the week but there was always consistency. Moca might try new products out and occasionally add new items to her orders but Moca returned to her favorites with such regularity she had her own line in the bakery's budget. And she never gave second chances to something she tried and rejected. It was a truth bakery wide acknowledged that a product once rejected by Moca Aoba would never be touched again.

The Limited Edition Spring Matcha Cream Bun was one such victim of Moca's taste buds. Saaya was particularly proud of that one—a little matcha powder in the flour, a careful infusion of green tea in the cream. It had a refreshing taste perfect for a spring day. Unless you were Moca Aoba, the bread connoisseur was not a fan. It was an ill omen but such was the way of Moca's tastes.

But here was a matcha bun snuggled on Moca's tray, cradled between her cream bun and daily baguette. Saaya balked. Normally Moca would have a melon bun for her afternoon snack on Monday alongside the other two. The baker's first instinct was that Moca had made a mistake. Maybe her eyes had failed her. But Moca didn't make mistakes when it came to bread. Saaya chalked it up to a bit of new spring madness and forgot about as the week moved on and Moca's order returned to normal.

And then it happened again the next Monday.

And the next.

Saaya wanted answers. She tried to ask directly, leaning over the counter with the sort of playful flirty wink that got her temporarily married to Kaoru, but Moca only answered with a vague smile and something about mature tastes and absolutely no response to Saaya's flirting. Saaya was officially concerned. The only thing Moca loved more than bread was harmless flirting.

Saaya had responsibilities to her customers. She would keep them well fed, sometimes give them a little extra stamp on their points card, and, very occasionally, take her break early so she could play Nancy Drew and follow them to wherever they were going with an unaccounted for matcha bun.

She crept down main street after Moca Aoba, ducking into the alleys she knew well from childhood. Luckily, Moca wasn’t very observant or maybe she was simply lulled into a false sense of security by familiar surroundings. Wait. That was a creepy thought. Saaya assured herself she wasn’t a stalker. This was just part of being a responsible baker. Something, something market research?

Moca's mysterious journey took her to the very edge of the shopping district and onto a side street totally deserted save for Moca, Saaya behind a mailbox, and someone indistinct at the end in a Hanasakigawa uniform. Moca wandered over to the girl, spreading the sides of her hoodie open by the pocket, like a peacock unfurling its tail, totally blocking out Saaya's attempts to get a better view. All Saaya could make out was Moca quickly enveloping the other girl in her hoodie, flashing the biggest grin Saaya had ever seen before they dashed apart allowing Saaya to catch the face of...

Chisato Shirasagi?

Saaya only knew her upperclassman well enough to be surprised. She didn't know Chisato knew Moca, let alone knew her well enough to meet up alone after school. But here they were chatting familiarly, Moca's flirty, teasing smile making an appearance, Chisato looking playfully exhausted.

They were standing so close, almost touching but keeping just enough space apart for some sort of deniability. Deniability? Ah. Saaya understood by the time Moca started rooting around in the Yamabuki Bakery paper bag and pulled out the matcha bun.

They didn't kiss. They didn't even touch, but as Saaya watched Moca hand over that bun with an insistent little push, she knew in her heart what she was seeing. Chisato Shirasagi and Moca Aoba, who'd have thought it.

Moca was very lucky, bakers were excellent at keeping secrets.

* * *

Moca didn’t really care for cherry blossoms. She didn’t have it in her to like anything so ephemeral. If it didn’t have the decency to last forever what was the point of it? But every time she turned that corner out of the shopping district and onto that cherry tree lined boulevard with Chisato at her side, Moca started to get the appeal a little more.

It was definitely, absolutely cliched to compare their relationship to cherry blossoms but Moca’s brain hadn’t had an original thought in 17 years and she wasn’t going to start now.

There wasn’t really a word for their relationship, or maybe there was and it was just long and German. What was it called when you knew you weren’t friends, when you both knew very well that you wanted to kiss each other, that you would kiss each other if only one of you didn’t have a schedule that was so jammed packed with things that you could only have whatever this relationship was in the fifteen minute intervals between locations?

It didn’t really matter how the thing started, only that it was there on that spring day with the pink petals falling and Moca already dreading losing it.

“You do know my favorite, don’t you?” Chisato hummed as she unwrapped the plastic around the dark green bun Moca had pressed into her hands.

Moca grinned. It’d taken her a few weeks of trial and error to figure what Chisato liked. Chisato was charmingly unforthcoming with her likes and dislikes. Every little piece of knowledge was a hard won victory.

They walked side by side, just close enough for them to accidentally (on purpose) brush arms from time to time. Chisato hadn’t set any rules for what they could or could not do, which was wise because Moca had never met a rule she wouldn't immediately break. Unspoken agreements were tricker to bend. But if they couldn’t be direct, Moca would just find a more indirect method to show her affection.

Just before Chisato bit into the bread she was holding, Moca leaned over with a wink. “Moca-chan should probably taste it first. Just to make sure it hasn’t gone bad.”

Chisato smiled wryly and held the bun out to Moca, knowing just as well as Moca did that the Yamabuki Bakery would never sell something old. “How thoughtful. I appreciate your noble sacrifice.”

With remarkable self-restraint, Moca leaned over and took the smallest bite she had ever managed right from Chisato’s hand. It could generously be described as a nibble. She licked her lips over with exaggerated flair and a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

Chisato responded with a light, practiced chuckle. She pulled her hand back and raised the bread to her lips, paused with a mysterious smile.“I starred in a show like this once. The hero and heroine shared an indirect kiss on fanciful spring day.” She bit down with a practiced, television ready bite. All from the front of her mouth, open just wide enough to let the food inside without fuss.

“How old were you?” Moca asked, trying not to look so directly at her lips and failing completely.

“Nine.” She wiped the corner of her lips with a dab of her index finger. She offered with batting eyelashes, “Would you like another bite, Moca Aoba?” Chisato had read Moca’s game immediately and was serving it back to her twice as hard.

The bun was held out again. The serpent with the apple—if the apple was a Yamabuki Bakery bun and the serpent was a teenage girl with arms and actually the metaphor didn’t work in the slightest. But it sounded cool and thinking about it helped Moca not think about the small ridge of a bite mark in the dough and the way Chisato’s lips had just been pressing against it. Chisato was right, as always, it was extremely elementary school of her heart to beat so wildly over something so small and silly as touching her lips to the same place Chisato had touched hers. But knowing that didn’t make her cheeks tingle any less as she took the bun back and took her bite.

Her heart was still pounding. Something about the curious look on Chisato’s face told Moca hers was too. She didn’t like the way Chisato made her feel exposed, or maybe she was afraid of liking it too much.

“This is just for us right? No one would ever take Moca Aoba and Chisato Shirasagi seriously as…” Anything, Moca finished silently. There was no relationship they could have that would make sense to anyone else. She held the bun out to Chisato with her thumb and forefinger. “It’s just for us.”

Chisato took the bread with her ever inscrutable expression in place. Moca couldn’t tell what she wanted Chisato to say in return, affirmation or rejection? Which would be which anyway.

“Just for us.” Chisato repeated. She raised the crescent shaped remnant to the height of her lips, paused and leaned so ever slightly forward, eyelashes fluttering with butterfly wing delicacy as she lightly kissed the pastry. Like kissing a fragment of the moon.

Moca swallowed hard and held her tongue. She knew in the abstract it had to look ridiculous, but she didn’t live in the abstract. She lived in that moment and in that moment she had never wanted to kiss someone so badly in her life.

The bun was pressed into her open palm, Chisato watching with casual interest for Moca’s reaction.

With her mind too busy playing a dozen fantasies where Moca played the part of a Limited Edition Spring Matcha Cream Bun, Moca's instincts took over control and there was only one thing Moca knew to do with bread. She opened her mouth wide and stuffed every leftover crumb of the bun inside. It really wasn’t her favorite flavor but it tasted so much sweeter with the surprise on Chisato’s face. Moca winked as she flicked out her tongue to catch one last bit of matcha flavored cream lingering in the corner of her mouth.

For a moment there was only silence. The worry that she may have chosen the wrong answer flared up in Moca’s mind but then her worries were dashed away by the pure, unadulterated, joyous sound of Chisato’s laughter. With her head thrown back, framed by the pink-white cherry blossoms in their tree, Chisato laughed and laughed until she couldn’t stand it anymore and the musical sound turned into the glorious snort of a pig apparently trapped in her throat.

Chisato immediately slapped her hand to her face, red blossoming across her cheeks from under her fingers. She was perfection undone.

Moca smiled uncontrollably, wild excitement in her eyes. “Do that again!”

“No.”

“Please~.” Moca begged, half falling to her knees, “Moca-chan needs a new ringtone!”

“I will die first.”

“Just a little snort.”

“Oh look we’re at my stop.” Chisato transformed her leisurely stroll into an embarrassed power walk as fast as her tiny legs would carry her towards the tall office building that held PasuPare’s rehearsal space.

Moca followed until there was a block between them and the entrance and let Chisato finish the last stretch alone. She watched from the street corner as Chisato transformed through her walk, each stride turning her taller, more refined, more elegant, more everything than Moca could ever hope to match. And yet, just before she reached the door, Chisato looked back. Her blonde hair flared out behind her in almost slow motion as she raised a finger to her lips and smiled with a hint of that laughter and matcha bun still on her lips.

Moca Aoba didn’t quite know what love was yet but she fell in it on that spring day anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Holiday by Yvette Young


End file.
